


Washing Up

by catty_the_spy



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Gen, Humor, Nudity, Teasing, and off-screen moments of ick, grousing, implied sexual situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2020-07-24 23:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catty_the_spy/pseuds/catty_the_spy
Summary: Destiny’s crew does some washing up.





	Washing Up

**Author's Note:**

> Original a/n: I haven’t done a five things in a while. Well, a five times fic that actually stayed that way. So this is for a sg1_five_things prompt: “Five conversations going on while the Destiny/SGC/Atlantis crew is doing laundry” and for the hc_bingo prompt “hazing”.
> 
> Post script a/n: don't mind me, just importing some old stuff to AO3

  
“How do these things work?” Chloe asked, watching the clothes spin in the washer.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Matt said. “I guess like regular washing machines, but with more UV light.”

“Huh.” Chloe tilted her head. “You think it’d be more…I don’t know…alien.”

“Washing machines are pretty simple. There’s y’know, the bin, and the water, and the tumbling and spinning.”

Matt blushed while Chloe burst out laughing.

“There’s more to it than that,” Matt added. “Those are just the basics.”

Chloe managed to restrain herself to giggles. “You forgot the shrinking. I think that’s universal too.”

Matt smiled. “Just so long as it’s not my shorts that shrink; I’m down to my last pair.”

“What, so you wouldn’t care if mine did? I have less to wear than you!”

“You’ve got that slinky thing you wore last night.”

Now it was Chloe’s turn to blush. “Yeah well, I refuse to wear that in front of Rush, so you’d better hope my clothes survive this.”

They sat together, blushing and laughing, and watched their clothes spin.

Camille and Young tried their hardest to avoid looking at each other.

Rush was simply staring at the machine, as if willing it to work faster.

Young cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about the-”

“Not your fault,” Camille said. She shifted the grip on her blanket.

“And Rush could’ve warned you about the-”

“I know. You don’t have to apologize for him.”

Rush’s eye twitched.

Camille narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t blame him for the incident on planet that had soiled her _first_ set of clothes; the second, where the three of them were covered in centuries old lubricating agent, was entirely his fault.

Young, at least, had his fitness gear to change into. He’d offered the shirt to Camille without hesitation, for which she was grateful. It didn’t provide nearly enough coverage, which was where the blanket came in.

Young shivered.

“You want to share?”

He looked at her, then at Rush, who was still scowling at the washing machine. “No thanks.”

“Have you unearthed a pair of underwear in the last thirty seconds?”

Camille frowned at Rush. “I trust _him_. And he’s wearing shorts, which is more than you have.”

Rush, who was wearing less under his blanket than Camille was under hers, gave the machine an especially venomous look.

And honestly…

“Why aren’t the two of _you_ sharing a blanket?”

Lisa ran her hand across the inside of Ronald’s thigh, leaning in close so he could hear her over the buzz of the machine.

“What are the odds someone could walk in on us?”

Ronald was quick to pick up her train of thought.

“Very very low,” he replied, with a hunt of a growl in his voice.

Grinning, Lisa let her hand drift higher. “And how long until we have to take those out to dry?”

Ronald pulled her into his lap. “You are such a tease.”

Her hands found his face. “What are you going to do about it?”

The best part of laundry day: Lisa’s shirt wasn’t in the way when Ronald reached up to cup her breasts.

Inman and James stared at their clothes as they went around and around.

“Thanks for sharing your slot,” Inman said.

James nodded. “No problem.”

They still needed to hit the showers. They were both covered in bits of intestine.

“Should we draw a mustache on his face?” Dale asked.

“No,” Adam said.

“We need to draw something on his face. if it was one of us…”

Adam hesitated. “Okay, you have a point. Just not a mustache. That’s incredibly juvenile.”

“Pi?”

“A bit cliché.”

Dale frowned at Eli’s sleeping face, thinking hard. “An imaginary number?”

Adam considered it. “Sure, why not?”

They were lucky they’d found a way to keep reusing their markers.

This would certainly teach Eli not to fall asleep in the middle of watching his clothes. And if that didn’t do it, having to hunt down the laundry he’d left in the washer would.  



End file.
